


Groceries

by UsagiShipper



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Coping, Deathfic, Drinking to Cope, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, M/M, Moving In Together, Moving On, One Shot, Self-Harm, Short One Shot, Songfic, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, that's a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsagiShipper/pseuds/UsagiShipper
Summary: Something bad happened for the Worth It gang. Andrew is the one who's taking it in the worst way, thankfully, Adam is there to help him.





	Groceries

**Author's Note:**

> This is a SongFic based on Gia Margaret's song: "Groceries"; I recommend you check it out.  
> Trigger warning: unhealthy coping, light/non-graphic self-harm, character death (mentioned).

_It's safe to say it's been a hard year._

Adam gets to this conclusion once he catches himself walking back from the grocery store for the third time just this week.

It's not like he hasn't figured it out sooner, he just wasn't brave enough to admit it to himself until now. He sighs before lifting his head from the paper bags which his arms have been holding dearly during the whole walk, watching the dawn crawling in LA's skyline from afar, and the nuances of purple and blue seeping through the cracks between the clouds of the early empty Sunday... Adam could find it beautiful if it wasn't for the circumstances.

All it brings to him is that persistent melancholy that has been creeping on him for months.

The dreadful anxiety seemed to be glued to him since Andrew practically moved to his place; it was like a useless Band-Aid covering the unhealing bullet hole in his heart.

Adam stops by the door of the apartment, hesitant of entering his own home. He knows what he's going to find once inside; he has been finding it over and over.

When stepping in, he comes across his trashed living room. All the visible light bulbs have been broken and the furniture is all over the place. This time, Andrew has even broken Adam's favorite lamp.

Slowly, Adam rests the bag behind the closed door and kneels down to start picking up the shards of broken glass. _There must be some wicked symbolism behind this_ , he thinks to himself, after all, Adam was always there to pick Andrew's pieces. Always.

After tidying up the living room, and replacing the empty bulb spaces with the new ones he had just brought from the store, Adam wanders to the kitchen, longing for a rewarding glass of wine. But no; there isn't any of it left as well. Andrew has left the empty shards of the wine bottle inside the sink.

Adam sighs, dragging himself to his room which its door is ajar. Once inside, he realizes suddenly that any light had so strongly blinded him before in comparison to the darkness which that room was sunk into. The shadows from all corners were suffocating.

After a few seconds of forcing his eyes to adjust to the gloom, the catches Andrew's broken silhouette by the end of his bed. The man is sitting, having both of his elbows on his knees, and the hands above his head.

"What did I tell you about drinking?" it was unbelievable how, after years of being recognized as the quiet and patient friend, Adam was being the one to scold any of his colleagues; Andrew most of all.

"I don't remember," Andrew mumbles in a slur.

"You hurt yourself," Adam sighs, walking cautiously towards the bedside table by Andrew's side. He opens the drawer, pulling out a roll of gauze which he is so tired of noticing how in handy it was coming. Adam gently pulls Andrew's arms by the wrists to himself, seeing the blood oozing from the small wounds and cuts across his friend's palm as he kneels down to the level of the bed. "And you hurt me," he addresses with a pinch of affection. It was so weird having himself talking so openly about his feelings towards Andrew, however, he didn't have a choice after everything that happened between the two of them.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Adam," cries Andrew, his guilt engulfing him slowly.

Adam starts covering Andrew's gashes with delicacy when he stops abruptly, taking the other's words in, "You have been quite sorry for the last months, Andrew."

"You... you can't blame me!" Andrew gives a quiet outbreak; he feared that if it was any louder he would break into tears. Again.

"Then who am I suppose to blame for?" Adam challenges.

They exchange looks, and the particular sullen between the two seems to collapse for a brief second. It was on those moments that Adam and Andrew reminded themselves why they were together: without one another constantly, there wouldn't be any single moment in which they would not be crying.

It is flawed, but it is their best way of sustaining each other through that time.

Adam whisks the gaze away, clinching the knots of the gauze underneath Andrew's wrists, "There."

Andrew doesn't say anything, instead, he raises his left hand, cupping his friend's chin and bringing his face up to his. They lock eyes again.

From a second to another, they are both on their feet; Andrew piercing Adam against the drywall, the breathing between them getting heavier and heavier before they finally close the gap. Adam melts into Andrew's influence, as he always does. Bianchi grips tightly around Andrew's neck, pulling him closer. Andrew trickles his hands to Adam's waist as he tries to make the other's hesitation come undone, so he can slide his tongue on his and, once like this, have Adam completely for him— _only_ for him.

However, Adam pushes him away, nudging himself out of Ilnyckyj's spell. "You can't keep doing this," _I'm not Steven, Andrew_ , he wants to say, but decides on keeping it to himself instead. " _We_ can't make this our healthiest way to cope." He assures not only to his friend but also to himself.

Andrew stops for a second, pondering, and then finally admits, "But I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to deal with Steven's—" he isn't able to bring himself up to finish it.

"I know," Adam nods, "but we can't keep grieving—not like this."

Andrew looks at him with a begging and crushing stare. "What should I do, Adam? What should I do? Please."

After a moment of silence and uncertainty, Andrew feels Adam's warm hand enveloping over his, and forces himself to look at him. Adam is caring a brighter look on his face, one that is so warm that thaws the cold fear from Andrew's chest.

"What about we start with opening the blinds?" says Adam hopefully. Andrew's lungs get tingly, and he feels something cozy that he could almost— _almost_ —consider as being something he had forgotten he was able to feel: joy. "I know it may not look like it sometimes, but there's always glimmer. There's always glimmer out there waiting for us... we just have to let the light in."

They smirk at each other for what seems to be the first time in years, and then, Adam guides Andrew to the window.

Together, they open it.


End file.
